


Now I Sleep In The Middle Of The Bed

by historymiss



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 18:44:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16770760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/historymiss/pseuds/historymiss
Summary: 'In her dreams, Catra is a traitor'.An angsty Catradora drabble as I dip my toe back into fic.





	Now I Sleep In The Middle Of The Bed

In her dreams, Catra is a traitor. It wouldn't surprise anyone: they;ve always believed the worst of her anyway, and if it only happens while she's asleep these days, what's the harm? The problem is this: despite her best efforts, the bed still smells of Adora. The blankets carry the memory of her touch. Catra curls up on the bed, claiming it as her own, but she only ends up drowning in the ghosts of their friendship. She can say what she wants in the waking world. But at night, she dances with Adora in a hall of ice and lights. Twirls her again into her arms. Runs the back of her claw down Adora's cheek, and this time the other girl doesn't flinch. In her dreams, Adora wants the scar, a stripe of Horde red that betrays no allegiance save to Catra herself.

It doesn't last though.

Nothing ever does, does it? Not for Catra. She's learned that lesson from Adora herself, after all. It had been painful, but, in the end, necessary. She can feel the moment in the dream when it changes. Catra leans close for a kiss, and for a second the sheer presence of Adora fills Catra's senses: the remembered smell of her hair, clean and comforting and safe, the rhythm of her breath, the flush of pink under her lips.

(It's these moments, dark and intimate, that she remembers when she wakes. They make what follows all the more painful, all the more necessary. Catra won't be weak again.)

In her dreams, Adora's eyes open wider, spill a glare of white light that fills them side to side and leaves them wholly inhuman. She grows, her body transformed into something so unlike the familiar lines Catra knows. She is crowned (she was always bound to be so), in glaring gold, and her face is set in judgement. And that sword- that damn sword- is raised to the sky. Her hair is free and whips in too-familiar cords around her head, and there's nothing of Adora in She-Ra any more.

(The smell lingers, but this is a mockery rather than a comfort. It lingers in real life, too: it drives Catra mad. She wants to claw it from this thing that used to be her friend, the shining, horrible goddess, the _princess_ they were trained from birth to despise.)

In her dreams, Catra is a traitor. But Adora is too.


End file.
